


Into The Rapture

by soupmetaphors



Category: BioShock
Genre: Canon Era, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 08:46:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6322711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soupmetaphors/pseuds/soupmetaphors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack has no idea how he's still standing, but he'll be damned if he dies under the sea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into The Rapture

He smashes the splicer’s head in, blood spraying both him and the air. Turns away before the body can even touch the floor.

_Where are you?_

On the edge, nerves fraying, left hand tingling. The Rapture’s got ghosts round every corner and he doesn’t want to run into them.

When he’s sure there aren’t any more splicers in the vicinity, he relaxes. Lowers the wrench and sags against the nearest wall. Jack lets himself slide down until he’s sitting at its base. Legs splayed, eyes scanning the surrounding darkness.

_You were born to do great things._

Great things? Like _what_? Being stuck in an underwater city, hunted by things he cannot possibly fathom? Trying not to –repeatedly- bleed out? As far as he can tell, that’s _survival_ , not the supposed _great things_.

The shortwave radio buzzes to life. Atlas’s voice fills the silence, pouring through the cracks: Telling him where to go, what to do, how to avoid a messy death.

And then the transmission ends, leaving him alone again.

Yet he doesn’t rise. Fumbles with an EVE hypo from his pocket, jabs the needle into his veins. He’s quickly adapted to using them, to the brief agony the Plasmids bestow.

Puts the syringe aside. Inhales, deeply, the smell of blood and salt. 

Jack knows he can’t catch his breath for too long. Andrew Ryan has the whole damn Rapture out of blood. _His_ blood, to be exact.

And there isn’t a goddamn thing he can do about it.

The radio buzzes again.

“Would you kindly get a move on?” Atlas asks. “You’re like a sitting duck out here.”

Stands, then. Takes a moment to steady himself. Where is he getting all this strength from- A question he dares not ask himself.

And, with that, Jack walks deeper into the darkness, deeper into the Rapture.


End file.
